23.01 Day 8 Kanchanaburi

 

Day 8 - Tue 23rd Jan - Kanchanaburi

Another 30 something degree day with nothing much planned other than jumping in and out of the pool. Not having to walk the dogs everyday I feel like my step count is struggling, so straight after breakfast in the tropical garden, whilst the kids are doing some blog writing I take a walk to the main part of town. 

Kanchanaburi is on the tourist trail primarily because of the story (and movie) of the bridge, which is at the Northern end of the town. As you walk South - an hour-ish - the tourist count drops off and is replaced by locals. Of the ones we see, if they’re not selling by the side of the road they’re zipping around on scooters. No one is out walking. Old ladies sweeping their porch pause to ponder and stare at me. The impact of the bridge does extend throughout - the town emblem, featured regularly on plaques is off the bridge and I pass a series of roads each named after a country in the local history, from England to India, America to Singapore. 

After passing through a temple complex, again deserted, there is suddenly a vast raised walkway on the river edge. It must be 400 metres in length, 5 storeys above the ground overlooking the river. It is made from almost exclusively glass, both the sides and the floor. Perhaps it's out of season, but there are just 2 tourists on it. I’m not sure if the visitors who first went on it got scared though, because the walkway is covered in dots to reassure people they’re not about to step on to thin air. 

I dive into the hub of the town to suss out the bus station, both for tomorrow (to Erawan) and also for 3 day’s time (to Suphanburi and Ayutthaya). Some of the (albeit few) dicey moments in South America were in bus stations; walking around looking lost, dragging bags attracts unwanted attention. On my own the only attention is from the friendly tourist police who show me which buses I need and the timetable. 

Feeling more confident, I walk back to Sabai@Kan stopping briefly at the War Cemetery where row upon row of individual small gravestones are laid with flowers between each one. It’s sobering reading some of the inscriptions of names of people I’ve no relation to, but were dying so young on the other side of the world. The sprinklers are running and there are several people tending to the grounds keeping it very well looked after. The information stands informs me that 12,000 of the 60,000 prisoners of war working on the train line died, with almost 7,000 commemorated in this one graveyard. It also only gives equal weight to the 100,000 (out of 200,000) forced labourers who died on the project with no mention of their background - this is very much a Commonwealth venture. 

Back at the resort, there are 4 rather than the expected 2 kids in the pool. Where we had been the youngest by 20 something years staying here, we now have new neighbours in the form of a Canadian family with, coincidentally two kids, also aged 6 and 9. The wife, Kim, like Kate is on sabbatical for a year, but they are testing the water for longer travel on this 6 week adventure before committing to more travel, unlike us jumping in blind. 

Kids being kids just play without talking or going through any of the formalities that adults feel compelled to do. Sienna and Seb enjoy having Emmett (9) and Hazel (6) to play in the pool with. 

Chatting with Kim and Danny results then in all 8 of us walking together to the bridge for the 4:30pm train crossing. Taking a spot on one of the jutting platforms we are joined by a stray dog who’s calm and friendly in a mind-your-own-business-kind-of-way (but still don’t pat him Seb) who must be bemused how 6 times a day a small congregation of humans join him on his perch. The now 9 of us watch the train pass again right by our noses. 

Both elder kids then slump; Emmett from jet lag and Sienna more physically, slipping through a gap in the railway sleepers towards the river below. She’s slender but not that slender, but does scrape her shin which is no doubt compounded by the moment of fear of falling. While they rest, Hazel and her dad Danny cross the bridge with Seb and I - in part driven by Seb’s encouragement to Hazel of the swing on the far side that he went on yesterday. 

After picking up the most debated and democratically chosen bracelet you’ve ever seen, and dinner at a potluck chosen roadside place on the way back, there are games of cards and then charades. Despite the kids’ protestations and pleading for a sleepover, both families end up with just their own kids in each room.